Colonel "Iron Hand" Straken

Colonel "Iron Hand" Straken is a CatachanImperial Guard commander in Warhammer 40,000, and widely considered one of the biggest badasses the Imperial Guard's got. He has fought in wars all across the galaxy and clawed his way up from a lowly trooper to a Colonel following the example of his mentor, Colonel Greiss.

Look at this badass mother fucker, LOOK AT HIM DAMMIT!!!

Straken is infamous for losing his arm when his squad was pursuing a group of Spess Elves and was ambushed by a Miral Landshark that bit off his arm and a solid chunk of his chest. Refusing to succumb to pain or injury (Straken is purported to have not screamed when bitten, so as to not give away his squad's position), Straken proceeded to kick the shark in the balls, rip its throat out with his teeth, and kept marching onward. He would go on, with only minimal medical treatment, to charge ahead of the group through an onslaught of Eldar fire, pitching grenades as he went, even as several of his squadmates were systemically lost to silly things like death. It wasn't until later - after they had kicked the Eldar's ass - that his squad got him to the Medicaes and got this crazy motherfucker patched back up and gave him a promotion for good measure.

Commissars advise that rumors that he, in fact, beat the Landshark to death with his colossal balls are likely spread by Catachan veterans and are to be considered conjectural and not to be taken seriously.
Said Commissars could not be reached for a second statement, about the time that this statement to those 'rumors' was released and finally spread to Catachan. Strangely enough...

Straken needed extensive bionic replacement after the loss of his arm and part of his chest, and has a significant portion of his body upgraded with cybernetics. As such, he counts as wearing powered armor (something only Techpriests have otherwise), has a permanently-equipped chainfist that has no initiative penalty, and is fearless. His ballsiness rubs off on any soldiers within 12 inches of him (yes, he's just that big), who gain the Furious Charge and Counter-Attack rules. His willingness to kick the shit out of the enemies of the Emperor is an inspiration for Guardsmen everywhere, much as his ancestor, Ollanius Pius was, except GW hasn't managed to retcon the fuck out of Straken and make him not exist yet. Commissar Fuklaw is believed to think of him as a drinking buddy.

Stick him with some Psykers to fish around for juicy stuff like Hammerhand and Endurance, make sure he's in a command squad kitted out for melee as well ; and if you can; find some way of getting invulnerables for the whole squad like a Dark Angels Librarian or forewarning. Since you're already sinking in all these points; you may as well put in Yarrick and Nork. And there you have it, an Imperial Guard melee deathstar capable of pushing people's shit in right and proper (also letting Straken and Yarrick go about one shotting foot slogging non-nurglite chaos lords and Nork to reduce a daemon prince to pulp with a headbutt).

"What in the seven hells of Chaos are you waiting for? Personal orders from the Emperor himself? When I say take that damned hill, I mean take that damned hill, not damn well stand around and stare at it! I don’t care if there’s fifty L’Huraxi up there. I don’t care if there are fifty thousand L’Huraxi up there! Our orders are to take that hill and I’m going to damn well take that hill even if it means I have to kill every last one of the purple-skinned giants myself. Damn it, follow me, I’ll show you how it’s done. That’s it, get stuck in there. Medic! Stop whining, Brook, you’ve got another damned leg. D’ya think I cried like a damned new-born when I lost my arm? Course I damn well didn’t. I upped and ripped that damned land shark’s damned throat out with my damned teeth! That’s it, Sergeant Reed, give ‘em some Catachan steel. Emperor’s teeth, their blood stinks. Get that heavy flamer into that trench; flush the damned Grox-heads out. That trench, you idiot, not this one! Oh yes, smell those aliens burn. Smells better than breakfast, don’t it? Give me that damn grenade. Do I have to do everything myself? See? That ain’t proper armour like you’d see on an Imperial tank – no it’s flimsy, fall-down-in-a-strong-breeze, I-hope-they-don’t-spit-at-me armour. I didn’t really mean spit at it! You there! Yes you! Pick up Sergeant Creek’s hand. The medics might be able to stick it on him again later. Don’t stop now, you damned work-shy sons of acid-grubs, we’re only damn well halfway up..."

- Colonel Straken

First published in White Dwarf just before the first Catachan Codex came out, in a far too infrequent display of complete fucking awesome.